The (hopefully) Compleat Works of The Mad Poetist

Truly experimental poetry.

From The Time Traveller to a Time Tourist
I will not take you to        Berlin
to see the walls come down
It is      tacky.

I will NOT take you to     Golgotha
to watch the crucifixion
That place is     stupid    with tourists
at this time of the timestream
No self-respecting Traveller would be caught dead there
(and anyway there are three
past versions of MY self there
with whom I am no longer on speaking terms.)

Oh no no no no no no       NO.

Not when I know the precise
place    and date    and time
when one Celia Parker, for the first
and last time in human history
the PERFECT angel cake.

Not when I can locate the period when a charming retiree
spent his golden years making and selling
the BEST pickles.

We could pack them up in a picnic basket
and take them to see
the great unknown sage Rakuseki in his garden below the cliffs
and in the twenty-six minute window
between his enlightenment
and his being crushed to death by a falling rock
we could share pickles and cake and fragrant tea
and he will regale us
with the three great koan
he never had the chance to write down.

Every moment   All moments
strewn at your feet like petals in your path
and the only seconds you can think to step on are TOURIST TRAPS
full of slack-jawed penny-paradox yester-day-trippers

-The Mad Poetist


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